


Tumblr Prompt Fics

by bzarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholism, Anger, Angst, Backrubs, Betrayal, Blindness, CPR, Candles, Carrying a torch, Children, Claiming, Cravings, Drowning, F/F, F/M, Family, First Times, French Lemon Tea, Grief, Healing, High Speed Trauma, Implied Character Death, Intimacy, Lemon Tea, Lies, Lost Love, Love, M/M, Making better memories, Marking, McHanzo - Freeform, Meditation, Mourning, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Nervousness, Other, Podfic Welcome, Popcorn, Pregnancy, Prompt Fic, Reaper76 - Freeform, Recovery, Rehab, Secrets, Seduction, Sexy Burglar, Sleepiness, Smiles, Speedy Recovery, Stories To Save Lives, Surprises, Teasing, There are no quick fixes, Thunderstorms, TracerMercyMaker, Trans Female Character, Trans!Widowmaker, Travel, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Vishkar is not nice, WidowTracerily, Widowtracer, ZenZo - Freeform, anahardt, burdens, deafness, dia de los muertos, gingerspider, honeymoon plans, just really soft gay stuff, messages, more pregnancy, paint, past mistakes, pregnancy hormones, rainfall, returns, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 10,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Did the tumblr'send me a number and I'll write a fic about it'meme and decided to crosspost them here. :)I'll add chapters when / if I should get more requests. :)





	1. A Moment In The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 (“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”), widowtraceremily

“Emily?”

“What is it, angel?”

“Could you pull the car over, please?”

Emily gave Amélie a look of confusion, but nodded. “I suppose…”

Lena poked her head up from the car’s backseat. “What brought this on?” 

“I just…”  Amélie shrugged. “I want to feel the rain.”

Lena frowned. “You know it’s stormin’ pretty hard?”

“I know. But something with the heat and the cool water…I am not sure how to explain, but the more I see it fall, the more I want to feel it on my skin.”

Emily grinned as she pulled the car off the road. “Well, no harm in it. No one is expecting us back yet, after all.”

Amélie unbuckled herself once they had stopped, and popped open the door just as thunder crashed through the sky. Walking out into the storm, her blouse quickly began to stick to her skin as the cool water soaked into the fabric. 

The air was still thick and hot - much more than she’d become used to with living in London for so long - and the contrast was striking. 

_How long has it been since I could appreciate this?_

Closing her eyes, Amélie let her head fall back as the water ran down her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet _is_ canon to Better Angels and can be considered a deleted scene from Ch. 28.


	2. Faith Unbroken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 36 (“I wish I could hate you.”) reaper76 if you can?

Jack didn’t feel too guilty about asking Reaper to repeat what he had just said. After all, he’d just had most of a building dropped on him.

“ **I said, ‘This would be easier if you hated me’, Jack.** ”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Jack tried to laugh, but it turned into a painful groan thanks to what was probably a cracked rib. “Funny to hear that coming from the guy who just yanked me out of a collapsing building.”

Reaper turned away.  **“I wasn’t going to let you die like that. Not again.”**

Jack pulled the biotic emitter from his belt and triggered it, gasping from relief as the nanotech pulled his bones and muscles back into their proper places. “Didn’t die the first time. Technically.”

Shadows swirled beneath Reaper’s cloak.  **“I am _not_ in the mood for you to start with that shit, Morrison.”**

“Then what _are_  you in the mood for? Killing a few more people who used to have connections to Overwatch? Botching another Talon mission and pretending like you’re not doing it on purpose? Sneaking around like a Hot Topic reject?”

Reaper growled wordlessly as he whirled around, then seized the battered leather of his motorcycle jacket and lifted him off the ground like a rag doll.  **“I AM TRYING TO PROTECT YOU, AGAIN, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!”**

Gasping in pain from his still healing injuries, Jack wrapped a hand around Reaper - around _Gabriel’s_  - forearm. “Then tell me _why!”_

Reaper tossed him to the ground beside the emitter, the air bursting from his lungs as he struck the ground.  **“I am in _too deep_ , Jack. That is all you need to know.” **Then, before Jack could respond, his body began to ripple and twist, dissolving into the shadows, leaving nothing but the glowing hum of the emitter behind him.

Pulling off his mask, Jack shook his head to clear the last cobwebs, then looked up to the moon that hung in the sky.

“I wish I could hate you, too, Gabe. But we both know why I can’t…”


	3. To Bring Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still taking these zenmaker or zenzo with 46 (“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”)?

“Hanzo?” Zenyatta’s voice preceded him as he gracefully floated out of the ramshackle beach house that they had retreated to after their failed mission. “Have you seen my… _oh.”_

The orb that had been missing from his mala was in the bowman’s hands, who carefully ran his fingertips along the grooves and ridges that covered the surface. 

Even though a strip of dark cloth was drawn across his eyes, Hanzo’s exploration and study of the orb felt incredibly intimate, and Zenyatta had to pause to simply appreciate the unexpected moment. 

Hanzo lifted his head, turning towards Zenyatta, though he did not quite manage to look directly at his lover and mentor. “Forgive me for taking it. I felt…unwell.”

The slight tremor in his voice spoke of many things. Fear of his eyesight not returning. Fear of becoming useless if he could not contribute on the battlefield. Fear of being _dependent_.   
  
Zenyatta reached out to gently rest his hand against Hanzo’s cheek, feeling the contrast of skin and hair beneath his fingertips. “There is nothing to forgive. But without my energy, it has no healing properties.”

Hanzo pressed a gentle kiss to the plating of his palm, leaving a ghost of warmth and moisture against the composite surface. “That has nothing to do with why it brings me comfort.”

“ _Ah.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never see Hanzo/Zenyatta stuff and that's a shame - this was a lot of fun to write and I think they'd make a very interesting pair.


	4. Let Me Tell You A Story (If You'll Let Me In)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40 (“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”) McHanzo if you're still ok with doing it?

“..and after Gabe pulled me out of the river, he told me ‘ _That’s not how you learn how to swim, ingrate!’”_

They’d been sitting on the hill for what seemed like hours, waiting for the limo they’d be escorting to arrive. Hanzo hadn’t bothered to say much, as usual, but Jesse had never minded telling a few stories to pass the time.

He’d been sweeping his eyes back and forth, watching for motion as he spoke, and if he hadn’t been looking at just the right moment, he’d have missed it. A little rise in the archer’s shoulders. A tug at the corner of his mouth. His eyes getting just a little wider for a moment.

“Well, now. Ain’t that somethin’.”  
  
Hanzo turned, his face immediately slamming down into a frown. “What?”

Jesse grinned. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the courtyard with a dismissive snort. “We are _working_ , cow-man.”

“Suppose so - but what’s that got to do with the price of potatoes? I’d swear I saw it. Just a little one, but I’m pretty sure it was there.”

Hanzo didn’t reply in words but he angled himself just slightly back towards where Jesse sat, his boots dangling off the rooftop’s ledge. 

Jesse smiled to himself. Well, if it took a few more embarrassing stories to get him to open up, Jesse had plenty of those.  
  
“I ever tell you about the time I damn near killed myself makin’ popcorn?”

Hanzo’s eyebrow went up, and his lip quirked again. Just slightly. Just for a moment. But it was enough for Jesse to receive the invitation.

“Now, you gotta understand that I grew up gettin’ popcorn at the movie house - when I snuck in - or cookin’ it over the fire. I had _no idea_  you weren’t supposed to put a foil pan in the microwave when they asked me to cook some up one night…”


	5. Unexpected Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt thing, if you're still taking them, #27 'I'm pregnant' for widowtracer- trans widow and cis tracer?

Widowmaker blinked. Surely she hadn’t heard that right.

“Amélie?” Tracer looked up at her with eyes full of concern.   
  
No. Not just concern - _fear._  

Once she might have delighted in terrifying the annoying, foolish girl who she’d hunted across battlefield after battlefield. But things were different now, and while she might still be foolish, she had learned that Lena was many other things. 

Things she’d come to cherish. 

Things she’d come to love.

Sitting down on the bed, she took off her recon visor, dropping it to the floor. Her lover didn’t need Widowmaker right now, she needed _Amélie_ \- and she needed to know she had her support.

“I’m sorry, _chérie_. You took me by surprise.” She reached over and took Lena’s hand in her own, lightly rubbing a thumb over the back of her hand. “How…?”

Lena grinned crookedly. “Well, when a mommy and a mommy love each other _very much_ …” 

Amélie rolled her eyes. “Yes, _thank you_ , I recall that part.” She looked at their hands, then down at the floor. “But…Angela told me that I was…that Talon had _made_ me…” 

“Sterile.” Lena sighed, squeezing her hand tightly. “Yeah, I know. I was there, that day. It’s why we never really worried about protection after we decided to be exclusive.” She shrugged. “Maybe Angie got something wrong. Maybe something wore off. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

Suddenly her throat felt very tight, and she needed a moment to focus on breathing properly before she could answer. “No,” she finally admitted, “I suppose it does not. But Lena…” She looked up from the floor, concern filling her stomach with lead. “Can you…will this be _safe?”_

Now it was Lena’s turn to look away. “Honestly? I’m not sure, luv. Angie said that I’m about two months along, and things look good as far as she can tell. Winston isn’t sure if the baby would be affected by my disassociation or not, right now, but just to be safe I’m off the duty roster as of this morning, and the accelerator’s been locked into anchor mode only. No blinks or recalls allowed. But…” Lena looked back, her fear turned to a questioning, almost pleading look. “I want to try, Am. We’re here, now, and I want to go for it. I want to have your baby. I want to have _our_ baby…and I want you to be there too.”

Eyes filling with tears, Amélie pulled Lena to her, wrapping her arms tightly around her as she let her tears fall. “Of course I will be there, _ma choute_. Where else would I possibly want to be?”

“Yeah?” Lena’s own voice had become thick and wet with tears as she sniffled. 

“ _Oui.”_

Lena chuckled. “I guess it’s a bit out of order to ask if you want to move in together.”

Amélie snorted softly. “Somewhat. But the answer is still yes.”

Lena sat back with a teary grin. “We’re gonna need a bit bigger place. Have to look at schools and all that.”

Amélie smiled. “I suppose we will.”

“We’re gonna be mommies.” Lena’s fear at breaking the news was gone, and her smile was filled with delighted excitement. 

“Yes,” Amélie agreed with a tender smile, “we are.”  


	6. Can You Carry My Burden?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still doing them, would you consider 24 with Reaper/Hanzo. Unusual choice, maybe, but i'd love to see what you do with it.

Hanzo sat back on the tatami mat that he normally kept in the dojo for meditation. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”

Reaper gave a low sigh that echoed through his mask.  **“I’m not, honestly. But I think I need to do it.”** Reaching up to pull the mask away, Gabriel let his hood fall, exposing his scarred and broken face.  **“We both know I’m not getting better, _mi sol.”_**

Hanzo grunted, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. That was the truth, and they both knew it. Gabriel’s ability to keep control of his form had been…slipping, of late. 

It was one thing to love a dead man, strange as their courtship had been. It was another to wake up choking on a cloud of thick dark smoke as the cloud of nanotech that formed Gabriel’s body swirled and hung in the room like smog, a raspy scream of frustration rising from everywhere and nowhere as he attempted to pull himself back into a cohesive whole.

“Still. They will not be pleased if I contact them - particularly on your behalf. I am a murderer, and you…” Hanzo couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence, but the truth hung in the air like a lead weight. _You betrayed them._

Gabriel closed his eyes and settled down into _seiza_  across from him.  **“I’ve had to make my peace with that. With what I’ve done. I can give them all the reasons, and show them what I’ve done since, in the shadows, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll accept it, and agree to help, or they won’t.”**

He reached out and placed his hands in Gabriel’s, feeling the rough scars that we such a deep part of his self image that Gabriel reformed them time after time. “Genji will likely wish to reject us both. His words will have weight.”

Gabriel turned his hand until he could link their fingers, squeezing them firmly.  **“I know that when you spoke to him last he wanted to try to mend things. The monk’s been good for him, from what I’ve heard.”**

Hanzo couldn’t help but scoff. “Yes. And not only did I rebuff him, I took up with his ‘disgraced’ mentor. I doubt he will take those things lightly.” 

Gabriel smiled.  **“I think he might surprise you.”**

It never ceased to amaze him that this man who had been made to suffer in ways he could not even imagine still could find reasons to hope. 

They sat in silence for several long minutes before Gabriel released his hand, bringing his fingertips up to stroke and cup the side of his bearded cheek. Hanzo turned into the touch, closing his eyes. Trying to enjoy the moment and not think about how it could all fall apart before his eyes.

“Are you certain it would not be better to send Sombra? Or reach out to Widowmaker?”

Gabriel shook his head.  **“Even if she has ‘reformed’, she’s still rebuilding trust with a lot of them…and I don’t want to risk hurting what Amélie’s found with Angela. You’re a neutral enough party, and you have never been connected to Talon.”** He paused, then drew closer, lightly pressing their foreheads together as his voice dropped into a raspy murmur. **“And you’re the only one I trust to do this. Please…Hanzo…it has to be you.”**

Hanzo knew he was right. Only he could really do this with any chance of success…and he would not allow himself to fail. Not after Genji. Not after what had happened between himself and the clan.   
  
He would never allow himself to fail someone he loved ever again.

“Very well.” Hanzo tilted his head slightly, leaning in to gently kiss Gabriel before he shifted back and stood. “Write the message you wish me to carry, and I will go to them.”  
  
Gabriel reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bundle of letters. One addressed to the doctor, one for the gorilla, and one for his brother.   **“Already done.”**

Hanzo raised an eyebrow as he slipped the letters into the pouch at his belt. “None for Jesse?”

Pain flashed through Gabriel’s eyes.  **“There’s too much…and he made it clear that he had no interest in hearing from me again.”**

“Perhaps he might surprise _you.”_

Gabriel said nothing, just offered a weary smile. 

Leaning down, he brushed a kiss over the ashy skin of Gabriel’s forehead, taking a moment to close his eyes and take in every detail that he could…just in case. “I will go. And I will not return until I have succeeded.”

**“Te amo, mi sol.”**

_“Aishiteru.”_


	7. 2:41 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That pregnancy widowtracer was everything I didn't know I needed?? Like wow mang. Can i request a follow up for baby time with the 'you need to wake up because I can't do this without you'? (iforgotthenumbersorry!)
> 
> (For the record, the number is 20. ;D)

“Amélie…”

Amélie groaned as she opened one eye so she could see the bedside clock. 2:41 AM. Turning into the pillow, she shook her head.  _“Non.”_

Lena’s hands came to rest against the bare skin of her back, rubbing in little slow circles, her warm breath tickling against her shoulder. “Come on, luv…please?”

“Lena, it’s _quarter to three_. It will still be there in the morning.”

“Yeah, but she’ll be _awake_  in the morning. I want to have this done so she can wake up and it’ll be a surprise.”  
  
Amélie knew that was a good reason, but at the same time it had been so long since _either_ of them had gotten a full night of sleep. Grumbling, she turned over, but didn’t open her eyes yet. “I seem to recall someone saying it would not be very difficult.”  
  
“Am…”

“Someone who said she used to be a rated test pilot and an aeronautical engineer.”

She could almost see the pout on Lena’s face. “Come on, that’s _not_  fair.”

“What was it she said? ‘How hard can it be?’“ 

She felt bed shift and Lena’s body against hers, warm and full. “I know, I’m sorry. Please, wake up? I can’t do this without you - it’s a two person job.”  
  
Amélie reached up to run her fingers through Lena’s hair, leaning up to kiss her before finally opening her eyes. “All right, _ma belle_. Let me pull on a shirt, mm?”

Lena smiled and slipped off of her. “Thank you, luv.” She waited for Amélie to get a nightshirt from their dresser and pull it over her head before she looked back at her with a teasing little smile. “Since we _are_ both up, once we’re done…I could make it worth your while…”

Amélie chuckled throatily as she followed her out into the living room, where the parts and instructions for the balance bike they’d bought Mychelle for her second birthday had been laid out across the floor. “If you had started with _that_ ,” she purred as she picked up a wrench, “I’d have gotten up much faster.”


	8. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! about the "send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble", would you mind to do the 31 (you lied to me) with widowtracer?

She knew it would be bad when Lena didn’t even bother saying “I’m home!” when she came in the door. She stormed into the kitchen, her face a mask of anger, and slapped a sheaf of photographs on the table. “So. Mind telling me about this?”

Amélie turned around slowly, and picked up the first photograph. Yes, that was her, in her suit, rifle raised to her cheek. Footage captured by a traffic camera, she suspected. The grainy quality was too poor for a CCTV or security system. 

The second was a man lying awkwardly on a marble tile floor, a neat entrance wound above his heart, and a lovely splatter pattern of blood contrasting the polished grey and white whorls of the flooring. Despite the gravity of the conversation, a smile tugged at the edge of her lips. That _had_  been a fine shot, and the result... _exquisite._  
  
“It seems you already know.”

Lena pulled her goggles off, staring at her through unshed tears. “We _talked_  about this, Amélie. No more side jobs. You promised.”

She turned around, unable to face Lena’s accusing gaze. “We talked about it.”

The chair squeaked against the floor. “You said you’d stick to Overwatch missions. You _said_ you’d be able to keep it under control with that controlled release and the therapy -”  
  
A surge of anger welled up in her and she whirled around, her eyes blazing.  _“The therapy is SHIT!”_ Endless, boring, circular discussions with Angela and the Monk. Trying to help her reconnect to her emotions. (Anger, she’d found, was easy enough at times like this.) Wanting to work through Talon’s conditioning. Digging through memories that did nothing but cause her pain. Trying to act like anything else could replace the heroin rush of pleasure from fighting and killing. “It wasn’t _enough_ , Lena! **I tried**. But it wasn’t enough!”

“So you decided to go freelancing again? Called Sombra and asked for a job? Went through the books until you found someone willing to pay for a hit?”

She picked up the photograph of the corpse. “Do you _know_ what he was? This _salaud_  was handling trafficking for half of Europe. Do you have any idea how many little boys and girls he ‘arranged’ for?” Amélie scoffed  “I did the world a favor. Isn’t that what Overwatch is supposed to do? Make the world a better place?”  
  
Lena slapped her hand against the table so sharply that part of Amélie wondered if she’d broken a bone in the process. “It doesn’t matter _who_ he is! It’s not about that!”

Amélie crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what _is_ it about?”

“You _lied_  to me.” Lena’s tears had begun to flow, her own anger seeping into her voice. “You could have _told_ me it wasn’t working. You could have come to me and we might have figured out some options. Asked about changing the therapy. Asked about getting you more mission time. But you _didn’t_. You just decided it was easier to go behind my back and get yourself off!” 

She flinched. “Lena, you don’t understand.” 

“You’re right,” Lena agreed with a voice like shattered glass, “I don’t. I thought you loved me. I thought I could _trust_  you. Every time I defended you...god! Was it all just a game? A joke?” She grabbed her goggles and turned, walking towards the hallway. “Fine. Game’s over. I’m done.”

It felt as if Lena had shot her in the chest. She tried to follow, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Lena -”  
 _  
“Don’t!”_ Shrugging away, Lena blinked towards the door. “Don’t touch me. Not now. Not ever again.”

Something inside of her broke, and now tears began to fill her own eyes. “ _Chérie...”_

Lena nearly jerked the door off its’ hinges. “ ** _FUCK OFF!”_**

The door slammed with a terrible finality. Amélie slowly sank down to the floor, alone with nothing but her tears.


	9. Ocean Breeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About those drabbles, i would love to read the interaction of widowtracer in the 6 written by you.

Widowmaker knew something was wrong the moment she opened the door. 

There was a scent of the nearby ocean, carried in by the breeze. She’d closed all the windows when she left. 

Setting her shopping back down next to her door, she pulled a knife from the hidden pocket of her coat and slowly crept up the hall.   
  
Her living room was undisturbed, as was the kitchen. That left the bedroom and bath. Tensing, she slowly turned the door handle before pushing it open, springing inside...and coming up short at the sight before her.  
  
Glowing blue light was reflected against the wall from the discarded chronal accelerator, and her sheets had been turned down by the woman lounging on the bed, her arms tucked beneath her head. 

Turning her head to look at her, Tracer gave a saucy little grin. “Hello, luv.”

“ _Bonjour...”_  Slipping the knife back into her coat, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there a reason you are naked in my bed?”

Tracer giggled. “Well, usually it’s the other way around. Thought I’d surprise you for once.”

“Mmmm.” Dropping the facade, Widowmaker smiled down at her. “I thought you were here to kill me.”

Standing, Tracer closed the distance between them. “Well, what is it you always say? It’s just _‘Le petite morte?’”_

She rolled her eyes. “I have shopping to put away,  _chérie._ ”

Lena’s eyes were half lidded as she stood on her tip-toes for a slow, teasing kiss. _“They can wait...”_


	10. Forever, and Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, are you still taking the number prompt? if so, how about 46) “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.” with the pairing emilymaker? 
> 
> (I wasn't originally going to do this because I'd done the prompt already and the pairing (basically) already for the first prompt in the series, but then my brain said "HAHAHAH _nope_ , you're doing this.)

“Amélie?” Emily’s voice came echoing down the hall from the kitchen, but she barely registered it.

“Amélie….?” The sound was getting closer, and Amélie could hear her footsteps, but she was still too absorbed in her own thoughts to speak.

“Amélie?” Emily’s head poked around the doorjamb with a little smile. “Hey, have you seen the…? _Oh.”_

Amélie finally turned her head, struggling not to let the tears in her eyes fall. Her fingertips traced over the wings that had been embroidered into the shoulder of the leather jacket she held in her hands, and she bunched it together in her hands. “I…” Her head turned back towards the jacket, but she wasn’t really seeing it. Not any more. “I was trying to put things away. The laundry. I found this hanging…her spare, I think. It….” She swallowed hard. “It still smells like her.”

Emily sat down on the bed, running her fingers over the union jack patch that marked the other shoulder. “Yes…see the burn on the breast, there? Pulse round grazed her. She needed to mend a couple other things, too, so she brought it home and I helped sew it back together.” Closing her eyes, Emily sighed and gave a little shake of her head. “I kept telling her she ought to wear it again. For luck.”

Amélie shifted so she could draw Emily against her, letting the top of her head rest gently against her shoulder. “You couldn’t have known, _ma belle.”_

Emily made a noncommittal noise. “You remember all the little rituals she’d go through. For luck. I keep wondering…did one of us rush her? Did we take something she needed?”

Amélie kissed Emily’s forehead, letting her hand gently slip up and down her back in a wide loop. “Luck runs out, Emily. Even for someone who seemed to always have more than her fair share.”

They didn’t use either of her names. It was too soon. Too painful.

Emily straightened up and carefully put the jacket back onto the hanger that  Amélie had left on the floor.  _“_ Winston called this morning. Said they’d be ready to try again in a few weeks, he thinks.”

Amélie looked out the window. “We will be there…but…”

“I know.” Emily put the jacket up and slid the closet door shut. “After two failed attempts…I want to have hope. I do. But it would almost be easier to know…it was over. Get the closure. Let the wound scab over.”

Amélie stood and wrapped her in a hug from behind. “I never really had the chance to mourn for Gérard. Talon took that grief from me…with so many other things. For a long time it was simply a jagged hole in myself…that I could not close.”

Emily didn’t ask what had changed. They both knew. She put her hand over Amélie’s linked fingers and nodded silently. “If…if it’s time…?”

“Then I will be there for you,” Amélie promised, “and I know you will be there for me. And we will do our best to go on, a day at a time, until the scab becomes a scar. Until it heals, we help each other find our way.” 

Emily nodded. They’d talked around this so many times, since…since it happened. It felt good to finally get things out. State them plainly. “I’m not ready,  Amé.” Her voice was just barely above a whisper. “I’m not ready at all.”

“No. We are not…but we will still face it.”

“Together?”

_“Toujours, et pour toujours.”_

 


	11. Who We Might Have Been (Who You Used To Be)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! If it's not too much trouble, could you do 48 "Boo" with symmbra? This pairing need a little more love xD
> 
> (I don't know if this was exactly what you were expecting, but...well. I hope you'll like it.)

“I have never understood this…superstitious tradition.”   
  
Sombra paused in the process of finishing her _calavera_ makeup, putting the bright pink pencil down on her dresser. “Oh?”  
  
Satya sat on a stool of her own making, the cushion suspended on a column of hard light. Her organic fingers lightly pressed together as she talked, moving back and forth in a careful pattern. “You are very aware there are no such thing as spirits, or ghosts. Yet you prepare so intricately every year…” She gestured to the makeup, the basket of marigolds sitting on the counter, and the small bundle of _ofrendas_  she’d prepared earlier. “It is not mourning. I understand that much. You always celebrate it with _joy_ , not grief. But…” She flicked her fingers back and forth, twisting her hands as she moved. “They cannot see you. They cannot…share this.”  
  
Sombra read the nervousness in her lover’s stimming and her movements and smiled gently. “It’s OK, _diosa._ I don’t mind the question. Are you really asking if I believe in ghosts, or are you trying to understand so you can be a part of it with me today?”  
  
Satya’s shoulders fell with relief at being understood. “It has always seemed so important to you. It is…uncomfortable to be separated from this part of your life. To not know why it has such meaning for you.”

“Oh, _mi cielo…”_ She moved from her chair to crouch in front of her love, taking both of her hands in her own. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel like this wasn’t for you. I just…” Sombra paused, and took a moment to try to wrap her words around everything this day meant for her. “This day is for the living, really. We’re leaving the gifts for the dead and we’re recognizing them…but we’re also accepting that they’re gone. That our life moves on. We still love them - we always love them - but it’s OK to change. To grow. To be someone new. To laugh, to enjoy things, and knowing that they’re sharing in that with us, today, no matter what has happened since they’ve left.”  
  
Satya’s face deepened into a frown as she considered that, then nodded. “But in your case…who do you mourn? Who do you recognize?”   
  
Sombra took a breath, closing her eyes. “I could say my home, or the family I never knew. For friends in _Los Muertos_  who never made it out. They’re all there, more or less. But when you get down to it…I’m leaving the _ofertas_  for me, Satya. For the life I never had. For the person I was. Before the war. Before…” She gestured around, her implants energizing and casting pink and purple shadows around the room. “All of this.”  
  
Satya reached down and carefully cupped her cheek, mindful of the makeup. “But you are still here.” 

Sombra turned her head to gently kiss her palm. “I am.”   
  
Satya’s cheeks darkened, and she bowed her head for a moment. “…may I join you? When you explain it that way…perhaps I could celebrate who I was, as well.”  
  
Sombra grinned as she stood, placing a little kiss on her burning cheek. “Of course you can.” She turned, and gestured to the mirror. “Here - let me finish, and we could figure out some makeup for you?”  
  
Satya nodded, a shy little smile on her face that never failed to make her melt. “I would like that very much.”


	12. Not Leaving That Easily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Idk if you're still acceptimg these, but could you do 20 (“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”) or 29 (“I thought you were dead.”) with mchanzo?

He’d been falling, and the world had turned to pain as he crashed into the ocean. Jesse hadn’t realized water could _hurt_  so much, but before he could really process the pain or the shock the panic set in as saltwater stung his eyes and filled his lungs, making him choke and flail desperately as he tried to get to the surface, to swim up, to get _air_. 

His arm felt like it was made of lead but he tried to make it move and claw upwards even as he felt water seeping into it, artificial nerves shorting out and sending searing bursts of pain through his body as he drowned.  
  
Terror gripped him as he realized the weight of the dead arm was going to drag him right to the bottom, and he began to thrash and struggle against the force of the water dragging him down, his vision growing dark and hazy.   
  
The last thing he remembered before it all went black was a flash of blue light, and the feeling of an arm wrapping around his middle. 

When he woke up, his throat was ragged and burning, the taste of saltwater still coating his tongue. Hanzo was kneeling over him, his face filled with fear, and Jesse’s chest felt like someone had dropped a safe on him. His arm was…gone, he realized, the air brushing across the stump of his elbow, and it took a minute to realize his chest was bare. 

He tried to speak, but couldn’t manage more than a racking cough, spitting up a bit more saltwater before he finally managed a ragged croak. “han…?”

Hanzo’s fingers pressed to his lips. “Do not try to speak. You nearly drowned. Your ribs…I am fairly sure they are broken.”

Jesse gave him a weak smile. _Darlin’, I’m pretty sure my everything’s broken._

 _“_ The doctor is on her way. Do you remember anything?” 

He decided it was worth trying to talk again, because nodding felt like it would hurt too damn much. “…fell…”

Hanzo looked torn between scolding him for talking and being relieved. “Yes. The blast knocked you over the cliff. You were…” He closed his eyes. “I thought you were dead. Were it not for the dragons giving me strength…” 

“yeah.” Jesse closed his eyes. “still…still here…”  
  
Hanzo squeezed his hand tightly. “Yes. Now rest, Jesse. Just rest.”

He did his best to squeeze back. “thanks…darlin’.”


	13. Just What You Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #30, Junkrat and Symmetra? Pls and thenk.

“Oi! Symm! What’re you doin?”  
  
Satya stiffened as Junkrat called out to her. “This is not what it looks like!”   
  
The junker stomped over to where she stood next to his workbench, his artificial leg hitting the workshop floor with a distinct _clack_. “…so you weren’t tryin’ to steal one of my bombs?”  
  
Satya flushed and fell back onto the stool that he customarily sat on while he was tinkering with his devices. “…in that case, yes, it is what it looks like.”  
  
Junkrat blinked at her. “Right. Ten points for honesty.” He giggled, his lips turning up into a grin. “Bit unusual to have someone stealin’ from _me._ Usually this goes the other way ‘round.”

She shook her head, her hands twisting around each other. “It was a moment of…I don’t know. Recklessness. A foolish idea. Impulsive.”

“Well!” Junkrat (she didn’t understand why he didn’t like being called Jamison - it was a perfectly nice name - but she respected his request) took the bomb from where she’d left it, turning it over in his hands as he inspected it. “As it happens, reckless, foolish, impulsive ideas happen to be my speciality. World’s best, in fact!” He took the bomb and placed it on the floor, then sat next to it. “So, tell me what ya had in mind an’ I can see if I can get it figured for ya. I can be oneathem….consults? Izzat the word suits like? I can consult on all yer foolishness. Get it done right for ya.”  
  
She had to laugh at the mental image he conjured. Dressed up in business attire and stomping around an office, still carrying a belt of grenades on one shoulder. _That would be quite a sight._  
  
Squaring her shoulders, she sat up properly, looking out of the workshop doorway. “There is a building I constructed for Vishkar in Sarawak. One of my finest. I was told…” She shook her head. “It was supposed to be a hospital. Serving a community which had little access to proper care.” Her fingers slid along the panel of her dress, bunching the fabric as they tightened into fists. “It was supposed to help make it a _better place.”_

The same lie she’d swallowed, time and time again.

Junkrat’s eyes went to her hands and he gave a little grunt. “Sounds like that ain’t what they did with it.”  
  
“No.” She sighed. “No, they did not. I learned…” She swallowed hard. “They _lied_. Sombra showed me the reports. Pictures. Video. It is not a hospital. It is a _laboratory_. Being used to design improved methods of “compliance” tools. Chemical. Cybernetic. Hypnotics. They promise medical treatment, have them sign consent forms, and then experiment on them. Study the effects. Remove the ‘mistakes’.” Satya shuddered. “Few ever leave again, and fewer are missed. They…select their subjects very carefully.”

“Suits lie,” Junkrat said with a knowing nod. “‘S what they do. It’s a part of why you never made a good one, y’know? Y’ ain’t got the face for it.”  
  
Satya did her best to smile. “I suppose you think that is a compliment.”

 _“Course it is!”_ He tapped the bomb. “So. Guessin’ I know what you wanted this for, then.”

“Properly placed…a single detonation would destabilize the hard light matrix. Compromise the structural integrity. The building would collapse in moments. If it was placed in the night…no more innocents would come to harm.”

“Well, then!” Springing to his feet, Junkrat flipped the bomb up into the air, catching it and tucking it under his arm. “Why’re we waitin’ around here, then? You’ve got a buildin’ needs blowin’ up, an’ I’ve got just the bomb for the job!”

 

 


	14. To The Ends of The Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #50- writer's choice, for widowtracer, specifically your restaurant AU widowtracer if possible? :)
> 
> (Well, again, no idea if it's what you expected, but I hope you enjoy!)

Lena grinned as she scooted over on the couch, tilting her laptop so Amélie could see her screen. “So, I found this [waterfall](http://canopytours.co.nz/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/Mclaren-_falls_LRG.jpg)...” 

Amélie tilted her head, biting her bottom lip as she looked at the picture. “If it is as beautiful in person as in the picture, it will be breathtaking.”

Lena nodded. “Says you can do a twilight tour and the whole place lights up with glow worm and fireflies.” She sighed happily. “Sounds...magical, honestly.”

Adjusting her glasses, Amélie wrote herself a note with the name - McLaren’s Falls - then set it aside and reached out to draw Lena to her, sighing happily as her fiancée snuggled in, the laptop left on the arm of the couch. “We’ll have to see how far it is from the hotel you found with the hot spring.”

“Yeah...” Lena leaned back to look at her. “I hate to say it, but I’m kinda glad we’re skipping a wedding. ‘S nice to just plan the honeymoon and put the money into it.” 

Amélie chuckled softly. “I far prefer it to planning the elaborate wedding and not having either.”  
  
Lena turned so she could reach up and kiss her cheek. “Sorry. Didn’t mean...”

“No, Lena...” Amélie lightly ran her fingers along the back of her neck. “It’s all right, _chérie._ You were talking about _our_ honeymoon. He has nothing to do with it.”  
  
Lena closed her eyes, melting into the touch. “Just don’t want to bring up bad memories.”  
  
She pressed a little kiss to Lena’s forehead. “You will not.” Her lips quirked in a puckish smile. “I want us to see as many beautiful places as we can, and make memories to cherish for the rest of our lives...when we manage to leave the hotel room.”

Lena’s eyes opened and her smile turned a little wicked. “Oh, I think we can make that time in the hotel worth remembering, too.”

Amélie let her glasses slip down just a little, looking over the frame at her with hooded eyes. “Mmm...would you care to demonstrate, _ma coeur_?”

“Well. I _was_  thinking of the private spa package,” Lena teased, “but now that you mention it...” Her fingers wandered as her lips brushed the side of Amélie’s neck. “I have a few more ideas.”

That was the end of trip planning for the night, but their “research” for the rest of the evening was quite fruitful. 


	15. A Meeting Of Bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still accepting prompts I'd love to see Symmenji! I haven't looked at the list bc I want to be surprised, so how about whatever 13 is? Thank you so much!!
> 
> (Interesting choice, as it turns out! Hope you enjoy. :) You can consider this basically a deleted scene from "Scales and Light".)

“Genji?”

“mm?” Carefully, he turned over in bed. He still wasn’t really used to sharing a bed again. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally strike her in the head with a reinforced elbow or kick her shin with a metal foot. 

Satya didn’t seem to be concerned. If anything, she generally preferred closeness, often curling against him in the night or spending time running her fingers over the different lines and planes of his body, examining the many different materials that had been used to save his life. 

Now...something was slightly different. She was giving him a look that he didn’t quite recognize. 

Well. That wasn’t true. He’d seen that look many times before as a young man, the playboy of Hanamura, being approached by men and women who had taken an interest, and hoped to catch his attention. His confusion came from seeing it on _Satya._

They’d kissed a few times and varying degrees of physical intimacy, but he hadn’t really pressed for anything more. He wanted her to set the pace...and if he was honest, a part of him still feared that eventually she would decide to stop, to call it off, that he’d been an enjoyable mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. 

After all, who wanted to sleep with someone who was more than 60% machine?

Perhaps sensing his uncertainty, she reached out to caress his face. “Genji...it is you.” Leaning in, Satya’s lips brushed over his, her arms sliding around to push him on his back. 

“Satya...” To his surprise, she’d found the catches to release the armored cover over his waist and torso. “Are you _sure_...?”

Her smile was surprisingly tender for a woman who was methodically undressing him. “I spoke to Angela.”

Genji blinked, trying to figure out how that answered his question. “...what?”  
  
Satya’s low, throaty laugh made a shiver run through him. “I asked her if this was possible. If it was...safe.” She leaned down and kissed one of the scars that ran along the side of his belly. “I think I embarrassed her.”

Genji groaned under her touch as Satya slipped her fingers down his body, touching him more intimately than anyone else had in...years, really. “I think I know what her answer was.”

Satya slid back up, nodding. “Yes, you do.” She let her artificial hand come to rest on the reinforced joint of his shoulder. “So. Yes, Genji, I am sure. I am sure I want this. I am sure I want _you.”_ She looked to him, her eyes shining. “Do you feel the same?”

His fingers slipped up to rest against her hip, his fingers sliding beneath the silky slip she’d worn to bed. “I am _nervous_ ,” he admitted, “but...yes, I want...” He swallowed, trying to put things into words. This used to be so much easier. The alcohol had always helped. 

“I want _everything.”_

 _“Good.”_ She pressed her body against his, letting him feel every curve and shape of her. “Now, please, kiss me.”

He happily obliged. 


	16. Bottom of the Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got internet back! If you're still taking requests about your fanfiction I'd like a follow up to your widowtracer #31 with #3 (Please, don't leave.)
> 
> This got a little longer than planned. Hopefully you like it!

After she'd let Amélie in the kitchen, Lena had screamed out her anger for hours.

Running across London, venting in Winston's lab, blasting training dummies and hurling every bit of abuse she could think of the entire time.

She'd felt so stupid for trusting her. For loving her. For believing in her.

She'd probably have kept on tearing things (and herself) apart if Angela hadn't caught her recalling to fix herself up after she'd punched one of the bots hard enough that she managed to break a couple of fingers.

The doctor had forced her to go to the medical bay at the Watchpoint so she could examine her hand, and once she’d forced her to sit down Angela had stared at her with those piercing blue eyes until she felt like a bug on a microscope slide.

“Is punishing yourself going to make anything better, Lena?”

She shrugged. She didn’t know if anything was going to make things better, really. “If I’m thinking about how my hand hurts, I’m not thinking about how the rest of me hurts. Seems simple enough.”

Angela gave her a very unimpressed look. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how unhealthy that is.”

“Just...leave it, Angie. Please?”

The doctor shook her head. “Not while you’re putting yourself at risk, Lena. Not while you’re saying things like that.”

Lena scowled. “So what do you _want_ to hear, Angela? That Fareeha was right? Fine! _She was_. Cap was right. Jack was right. _Everyone_ who said I was a fool to trust her was right. Everyone who said she’d never change was _right._ ” Her breath caught and her eyes were filled with tears again, almost painfully hot against her skin. “Everyone who whispered about how she didn’t love me _was right_. Is that what you want me to say now? I was wrong, and I was _stupid_ , and -”

She’d half expected Angela to slap her, especially for bringing up Fareeha like that. It had been a low blow, and she knew it. Maybe part of her had been trying to provoke her, just to make someone else feel as miserable as she did right now.

What Lena hadn’t expected was for Angela to step forward and pull her into a hug, shocking her into silence. “Oh, _Lena_ …” The doctor sounded almost as heartbroken as she was, and she couldn’t understand why. “Is that truly what you think of us? That we’d be gloating about seeing our friends in so much pain?”

When she could finally find words, her voice was small and miserable. “Why _wouldn’t_ you be? From the day I started trying to help her, someone was telling me it was a terrible idea. Saying it was just a trap or that I’d end up dead - or worse.” A bitter laugh rose out of her throat. “I guess that last one came true, because honestly I think I’d have preferred if she just shot me.”

Angela gently ran a comforting hand over her back. “Lena, even the firmest doubters saw how much you cared for her - and over time it’s become clear how much Amélie cares about you. None of us would dare gloat about this, I swear. I’m worried about you, and I am sure anyone else who has seen you like this is as well. For that matter, for Amélie, too.”

“She doesn’t care about me as much as she cares about killing. About getting that rush.” She shook her head. “She _lied_ , Angie. I don’t even know how long she’s been lying to me. She just went out and found her own fun.”

Angela sighed. “Lena. Do you remember some of the things we talked about when Amélie began treatments here?”

Lena nodded. “You talked about how she was changed by Talon. How it was going to take a long time for her to make a real recovery.”

“That’s true…” Angela pulled up a stool so she could sit, putting her hands together in her lap as she looked up. “But I also tried to make it clear that Amélie is, essentially, an _addict_. Talon forced her body into needing to kill to produce vital chemicals in her brain.” Her eyes went down to her hands. “Even with therapy, even with attempting to help provide relief for the needs of her brain, chemically, it takes a great deal to break free of that cycle...and relapse is almost inevitable.” Lena noticed her fidgeting with a ring on her index finger with a triangle design worked into the band. Somehow she’d never noticed the doctor wearing it before.

Her brows knit with confusion. “Are you saying this was something that was going to happen no matter what? That I should forgive her going back to killing people, as long as they’re baddies? Forget about her lying to me and hiding what was going on?”

Angela shook her head. “I’m saying that every addict has to constantly battle with their addiction, and sometimes...we lose.” She sighed, letting her shoulders fall. “I remember who Amélie was, before Talon. She has changed a great deal, but at her core she is still a very loving person, even if it is difficult for her to express it...and also a very private one. She always believed...that she had to face things herself. Deal with them alone. What Talon did to her when they created Widowmaker made it worse, in many ways.”

Lena slumped. “So Amélie didn’t tell me what was going on…”

“Because she was - and likely still is - convinced that she must ‘fix’ herself.” Angela grimaced. “That is...also not an uncommon attitude among those suffering from an addiction. Not really acknowledging that help is available, or wishing to accept it, until you find yourself making the same mistakes again and again.”

Lena suddenly felt even more miserable than when she’d left the apartment. “And I...told her I was walking away. I made it even _worse_.”

Angela shrugged. “In your position I would have been just as angry. Perhaps more so.”

“So...what do I do, Angie?”

Angela took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Do you still love her, Lena?”

“It wouldn’t hurt like this if I didn’t.”

“Then I would go back, and find her.”

* * *

When she let herself into the flat the next morning, the curtains had all been drawn and the lights put out, a horribly expectant sort of silence still hanging over everything. Lena shivered when she walked past the kitchen, some of the things they’d hurled at each other suddenly ringing in her ears.

When she pushed the bedroom door open, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Amélie was lying beneath the covers, her eyes closed but her chest still slowly rising and falling in sleep.

There were still tear tracks running down her face, and she realized after a moment that she must have just crawled into bed after the fight and stayed there, weeping until she’d finally passed out.  

She took off the accelerator and left it next to the bed, then pulled off the hoodie she’d been wearing and undressed down to her sports bra and briefs before climbing into bed, gently wrapping an arm around Amélie’s waist.

“ _Please_ ,” Amélie whispered, “don’t leave.” She shivered, and Lena wasn’t certain if she was fully awake or still reliving the previous afternoon. “I can’t…”

She hugged her from behind. Part of her wanted to leave a kiss on her shoulder or another gesture of comfort, but she didn’t think either of them was ready for that, yet. “I’m here,” she murmured softly. “I’m here.”

“I am sorry,” Amélie shuddered against her, “for things I said. For things I did not say. For hurting you.”

Lena nodded. “We both hurt each other...and we have things we should talk about.”

“We do. Lena…” She could her Amélie swallow. “I love you. I thought...I had lost you. That I’d lost the one person in this world who’d believed in me. I want...I want to try. I want to get better. I swear that I do.”

She hugged a little tighter. “I love you, too.”

Lena knew she’d need to work on understanding more. Try to accept things that she’d ignored or dismissed before. To offer more active support, not just assume what others were doing was all that was needed.

But she would be there.

But they would try again.

It would be a start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Atheris!](http://atheris-art.tumblr.com)


	17. Drowning in that terrible noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you're still taking fic requests, then zenzo with 20: “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” (Preferably zen saying it to Hanzo but you don't have to do that if you don't want to!)_
> 
> (Since the last ZenZo prompt I did was from Zen’s POV I hope you don’t mind if I go the other direction.)

Hanzo’s ears were still ringing from the blast when he slowly staggered to his feet. He found a certain bitter irony in his recovering his eyesight only to be deafened on his first mission after his slow rehabilitation.  
  
The universe, he’d learned, had a very cruel sense of humor.  
  
The little Junker was gone, a crater, collapsed wall, and several piles of rubble the only sign of his presence. The fat one had likely followed his master once he’d made his escape. Hanzo shook his head, trying to clear it, but it was no use. The ringing remained, and his thoughts were sluggish.   
  
 _A concussion. Perhaps Zenyatta may be able to...wait..._

The realization that Zenyatta had been _with him_  when they’d unexpectedly been cornered by the two Australians suddenly struck him in the chest, and he spun, looking for where his partner might have gone. 

Panic was seizing him, an acid taste at the back of his throat, when he caught the faintest hint of metal beneath part of the wall.  
  
 _No. Please..._

Rushing to the pile, he began to shift the debris as quickly and carefully as he could, hoping to avoid bringing any more rubble down. 

When he finally unearthed Zenyatta, there was no sign of obvious chassis damage, but his optics were dark and his body still. 

_He could have been knocked unconscious by the collapse, or the shock. It doesn’t appear they shot or mutilated him. There is still...he could be..._

He tried to remember some of the basic maintenance tasks he’d seen his lover perform on himself. Where reset or charging ports could be found. His hands ran over segmented alloy plates and rounded servos, desperate to find some spark of warmth, some hint of life.

“Please...wake up...” He hoped he wasn’t shouting but couldn’t really tell. He could barely hear himself through the ringing, and what he could sounded like it was coming from down a deep well. 

“Please. You helped me learn to be whole again. Please do not tear me apart once more.”  
  
He could feel tears running down his cheeks as he gently ran his hand over Zenyatta’s face, just as he had for so long while he had been without his sight. Feeling every feature that had become engraved into his memory.

“I cannot face that again. I cannot lose you. Please...I cannot do this without you.”

The omnic’s still form held no answers as he tenderly lifted him out of the rubble and cradled him to his chest.


	18. Sweet Golden Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Speedy recovery, 38 or 22?_

Lena was confused about why Athena had asked her to report to the medical bay.

The Accelerator was fine, she’d made it through her last mission without a scratch, and for _once_  things were actually going pretty well, all things considered. 

So why the checkup? And why were all the lights off?

“Hello?” 

She walked in as the doors shut behind her, the accelerator casting odd blue tinged shadows around the room. “Angie?”

No answer. 

“Athena said you wanted to see me? Hello?!”

She couldn’t hear the usual muffled giggles or annoyed whispers that usually meant there was a surprise party. Besides, her birthday wasn’t until October, and last she checked this was June.

It was June. Wasn’t it?

She looked down at her watch and breathed a sigh of relief. June 23rd. _OK. Good. Still where you’re supposed to be._

Lena had been about to call again when a sudden flare of light grabbed her attention. A match being struck, over by Angela’s office and the little private bedroom Lena was absolutely not supposed to know she had there. One candle, then two, the flames illuminating Angela’s face...and skin...and oh that was a _lot_  of her skin wasn’t it.

“Hello, Lena.”

“Ah...hi...Doctor...Angela...Angie...you’re...um...”

Angela gave her a sultry smile. “I’d been trying more subtle hints. They hadn’t been working. I decided it might be best to use a more...direct approach.”

Lena’s brain was in vapor lock and her mouth was left to run on its’ own. “Have you, then? Subtle hints?”

“Mmmhmm.” Angela strolled over to her, letting the candlelight cast her skin in a million shades of gold. Not an angel but a _goddess_ , and part of her just wanted to fall to her knees and worship her. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. How you’ve been blushing every time I touch you.” Her fingers reached out to cup Lena’s chin, tilting it up slightly. “I’ve been touching you a _lot_ , lately, haven’t I?” 

“Sorta...yeah...did wonder...wasn’t sure...” Lena felt like she was drunk. This was a dream, right? This had to be a dream. 

“Well,” Angela smiled as she leaned in for a kiss, “now you know why.”


	19. The Ghost and the Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anahardt, 24? Pls and thenk_

When Ana appeared in his living room, he thought she was a hallucination. 

After all, he’d been drinking almost constantly. First a couple of beers after dinner in the wake of Ana’s funeral.  
  
After Jack and Gabriel’s, he’d started drinking at noon.

He’d been sleeping off another hangover when he heard a door open. That was odd. No one visited him anymore.

All his friends were dead.

(Angela was still around, he knew, but the UN had her under lock and key while they continued to question her, and Torbjörn was off with his wife and little Brigitte and the rest of their children. They had their own lives and their own concerns. He shouldn’t feel so bitter. What need did they have of a drunkard who had been told he was too old to uphold his oaths?)

“Oh, _Reinhardt_ …”

His eyes snapped open. He _knew_  that voice. He looked over with his good eye…and a ghost stood before him. 

Her hair was loose, as when they were younger, but spilling from beneath a white and blue patterned hijab, complimenting the white shirt and blue dress she wore. 

She had black patch over her eye, and when she gently propped him up in bed, he began to realize she might not be a ghost, after all.

“ _Ana?!”_ His voice was rough and scratchy, still a hint of last night’s _schnapps_ lingering in the blurry tones. “You…you are _dead._ I _buried_ you.”

Ana disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a glass of water. “You old fool. You cannot drink like we’re still twenty.”

She put the glass to his lips, and as the cold liquid sluiced his throat clean the shock that Ana was really _here_  rendered him quite sober.

When he’d finished the water and Ana had sat back, he ran a hand over his face. “So the coffin…”

“Empty,” Ana confirmed, “the sniper took my eye. I had…” She sighed. “I had thought I had failed. That I could no longer protect my family…my friends.” She shook her head. “I was wrong…but I cannot go back to Overwatch, since there is no longer an Overwatch to go back to.”

Reinhardt nodded slowly. “I cannot say I would have done the same…but I understand why you made that choice.” He looked at her, a faint hope in his heart. “So…why are you here?”   
  
_Would you stay?_

Ana seemed to understand the unspoken question, and shook her head sadly. “I cannot stay for long. There are still things I can do…still people I must protect.” She reached into her dress and pulled out a letter. “And…a favor I must ask of you.”

He took the letter from her and recognized the name immediately. “Ana…I cannot do this. Please.”

 She gave him a mournful look. “Reinhardt…she would not understand. She would not _accept_ any of what I have done - what I must do. I cannot face her. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.” She put her hand over his, and the sadness in her entire being made him ache. “You are the only one I trust to do this, my dearest Lion.”

He sighed. “Very well. I shall deliver this into her hands. You have my word.” 

Ana placed the letter on the nightstand, then wrapped him in an embrace. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He smelled flowers in her shampoo, and he buried his head against her shoulder, letting more tears fall. “I know you must go, but…”

Ana’s arms tightened around him. “For a little longer, I can stay.”


	20. We Need To Get Connected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The unexpected arrivals chapter in your prompt fic is so cute and oh my god i didn't think id love something like that so much! If you're still doing more- #50 writers choice with pregnant tracer?_. 
> 
> Gonna be honest I have no idea if it's what you wanted but the idea hit me last night and it's what you're gonna get.

Améliehad expected food cravings. Crying fits. Mood swings.   
  
She had not expected Lena grabbing her by the shirt and practically dragging her to the bedroom nearly every time she came through the front door.   
  
That was not to say she  _objected,_ really. She’d always been a bit skeptical about the talk of how a pregnant woman would ‘glow’, but as Lena’s initial bouts of morning sickness and fatigue had ebbed, there had been an undeniable energy to her. Her normally cheerful personality somehow getting even more warm and welcoming, her eyes shining with something just a little  _extra_  as she moved through the day. 

There was something undeniably  _sexy_  about it, and as Lena’s body slowly began to show, the subtle changes had been quite...interesting for both of them to explore.

Amélie had been out picking up a few things (Lena had developed quite a craving for pickled cauliflower of late) and she’d barely set the shopping back down on the counter when she felt Lena’s arms wrapping around her, fingers teasing their way towards the buttons of her blouse. 

“This really needs to go.”

Amélie pressed back into her. “They would get very upset if I arrived at the supermarket topless. I am sure my combat suit would not be an improvement.”  
  
Lena finally managed to undo a button, taking the shirt tails and tugging them out of her waistband. “That sounds like a you problem,” she murmured as her fingers fumbled with the buckle of her belt. “Now, you heard me. Take. It. Off.”

She put her hands over Lena’s wrists, lightly squeezing them. “ _Tsk_. Where is the rush,  _chérie?_ You weren’t even this insatiable on our honeymoon.”

“Angie did say all these hormones were likely to put me into overdrive,” Lena gave a happy little ‘hah!’ as she managed to get the belt open, and popped the button of her capris. “ _It’s a wonderful opportunity for you and your partner to share in the way your body is changing_ ,” Lena quoted as one hand started to explore down her pants, making Amélie shiver a little as she started to tease along the cotton of the briefs she’d pulled on this morning. “ _A very healthy way for you both to stay mentally, emotionally, and physically connected.”_

Amélie bit down on her lower lip to swallow a groan at the feeling of Lena’s fingers against her skin. “Is that so?”  
 _  
“Mmmhmmm...”_  Lena’s warm breath against her back was  _not fair_. “An’ right now my hormones and I would really like to ‘connect’ us. Quite a lot. I was thinking I might like to ‘connect’ you to the bed...though if you don’t  _get those bloody pants off_   I may just try ‘connecting’ us right here on top of the kitchen island.”

Amélie chuckled. “That would be very unsanitary.” Pulling Lena’s hands away from her, she moved to turn inside of her arms until they faced each other, taking the opportunity to tease back as she cupped Lena’s bottom through the négligé she was wearing. “Let me put these away, and I promise, good things will come to those who wait.” 


	21. Project Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _#19; widow/mercy/tracer?_

Angela sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Amélie. Lena.”

Both women turned to face her, a bit of pink rising on Lena’s cheeks, Amélie’s golden eyes widening slightly. Honestly, why had she thought they would stay on task?

“The paint is supposed to go  _where?”_

Lena put her hand to the back of her neck, calling attention to the stripe of blue paint that ran over her cheeks and nose. “On the walls...?”

“And the ceiling,” Amélie admitted, a white handprint on the hip of her jeans, telltale blue stains on her fingers contrasting with the more purplish tones of her skin. 

Angela did appreciate her need to be precise. It was why she thought that, perhaps, that exacting nature and Lena’s experience with less than legal graffiti work  _might_  be combined to help paint her new office. 

To their credit, there WAS fresh paint on the ceiling. But it was mostly in the form of handprints and several rather impressive splatters.  
  
“It seems it  _mostly_  went on the pair of you,” Angela drawled as she walked forward, then knelt next to the can of tan paint that she was planning to use to repaint a few of the doors. 

Lena coughed. “Yeaaah. Well...we got a little distracted there, I guess.”

“You did.” She pulled on a pair of the disposable painters’ gloves they’d picked up, then calmly dipped the index finger of each hand into the paint before standing up and walking over to each of them. “So. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “We are sorry,  _l’ange?”_

Angela smiled. “You really should be.” She reached out and dragged identical lines of tan paint down their chins. “It’s really quite unfair for the two of you to hog all the fun.”

Her newly claimed lovers stood frozen for a long moment, and as they went back to work their laughter began to echo through the building.


	22. Don't Worry About A Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _4- 'i could give you a massage' for modern au widowtracer (maybe restaurant au? ;) )_

“Oh, luv, you look half dead.”

Her wife (and what an amazing thing being able to say  _that_  was) looked absolutely knackered, her eyes dull and her bearing exhausted. 

“I  _feel_  dead.” Amélie yawned, nearly falling onto the couch. “The next time Gabriel asks me to work an all day wedding when I have a closing shift the day before, please just shoot me and collect our life insurance instead.”

Lena chuckled and sat down beside her, gently pulling Amélie against her shoulder. “Three more days, Amé, and the money will be in the bank and we’ll be on the plane to Auckland, and it’ll all be worth it.”

“I am sure you are right, but after...” Her eyes wandered slowly up to the clock. “Twenty two hours of work in the last two days, it was all a terrible mistake.”

“Poor thing...” Lena ran a hand over her shoulder and winced at the tension there. “Here...want to lie down on the floor and I could give you a massage?”

Amélie groaned. “That...means having to  _move_.”

Lena gave a little ‘aww’ as she gently helped to lever her upright. “Here, I’ve got you now. Just let me do the work.”  
  
Amélie’s face went red. “If I wasn’t so tired I’d hold you to that.”  
  
Lena helped her down to the floor, putting one of the pillows from the couch under her head, then knelt beside her. “I’ll take a raincheck. Now...” She began to gently work up her back with both hands in slow circles, letting her body weight do the work. “Just relax, yeah?”

The only answer Amélie could manage was a happy groan, but it was good enough.

“Learned a thing or two when I was working in Seville for a bit,” Lena explained as she worked on a knot. “Wasn’t ever certified or anything, but I helped work the desk at a massage clinic for a couple months and the girls showed me a few things.”   
  
She’d expected Amélie to make a joke about that, but to her surprise after a few minutes even her little ‘mmms’ and ‘ohs’ had come to a stop, and when she finished another pass on her back, Lena gently touched her shoulder, then gave her a little shake. “Amé? Hey, Amélie...?”   
  
The only reply was a soft snore.  
  
Lena shook her head. “I suppose I earned that.” Carefully, she got to her feet, keeping her knees bent, lifting Amélie up and somehow managing not to wake her. “Off we go, my love...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last prompt for now! Keep an eye on my [Tumblr](http://redcap3.tumblr.com) for when I'm taking more!


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